Chapter 12 - THE MANUAL OVERDRIVE
I sprinted past the teller stations and shouldered my way into the back administrative hallway, heading straight for the branch's primary electrical and security utility closet.
The door was locked with a heavy electronic keypad. I didn't have the code.
Stepping back, I threw a hard side-kick directly into the panel beside the handle. The old plastic housing shattered, exposing a nest of fiber-optic cables and circuit boards. I didn't care about short-circuiting the system; I needed to drop the blast-shields before local first responders started using explosives on the front glass.
Working quickly by feel and memory from my academy days, I crossed the yellow and blue low-voltage leads, bypassing the localized signal jammer.
Sparks flew, smelling of hot copper.
Above us, the rhythmic pulsing red emergency lights cut out, replaced instantly by the crisp, cool white glow of standard overhead fluorescents.
A second later, with a loud, mechanical screech, the heavy steel security grate at the front entrance began to retract upward. The pneumatic pressure on the main glass doors hissed and released.
Outside, the street was a chaotic sea of flashing blue and red lights. At least half a dozen police cruisers, tactical vans, and an ambulance had blockaded the intersection. Megaphones were blaring orders from the curb.
I walked out through the parting glass doors, holding my badge high in my hand so the sniper teams stationed on the surrounding rooftops wouldn't mistake me for a fleeing suspect.
May you like
"Hold your fire! Detective Miller, Westbridge PD!" I shouted, squinting against the blinding glare of the police spotlights.
Captain Vance—my direct superior—pushed his way through the perimeter tape, his face red with fury and adrenaline. "Miller! What the hell happened in there? We picked up an automated Westbridge override ping from your location. Are there casualties?"
